


Prompts of the Ask Box Kind

by Caiti (Caitriona_3)



Category: Bourne (Movies), Bourne Legacy (2012), Bourne Series - All Media Types, Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Leverage, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Awesome Darcy Lewis, Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Memories, Minions, Multi, Protective Phil Coulson, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-03 17:31:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitriona_3/pseuds/Caiti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles & ficlets from Tumblr ask box prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Pink Blanket (Avengers, Natasha)

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to prompt me - I'm "caitriona3" on Tumblr, and I'm open to:
> 
> Avengers - Clint/Darcy, Bucky/Darcy, Bruce/Natasha, Tony/Pepper, Steve/Peggy, and any individual character  
> Bourne Legacy - Aaron/Marta or either individually  
> Firefly - Mal or River  
> Leverage - Eliot/Parker, or any of the team individually, or the team as a whole & Maggie  
> Magnificent Seven - any of the guys individually
> 
> I'll also consider a character in any fandom I've written in, as well as every pairing I've already written.

Natasha Romanoff stared at the small pink bundle she held in her arms. At 1:12 pm on that sunny afternoon, Clint and Darcy had welcomed Natalia Jane Barton into the world – Talia for short. Natasha had managed to avoid holding her as everyone gushed over the first baby of the family. When the others slipped out to let the new parents have some quiet time as a family, Clint held her back.

“You’re the godmother,” he said in reply to her questioning look.

Darcy smiled tiredly. “That means you have to hold her.”

“What about Jane?” Tasha protested weakly as Clint firmly deposited the baby in her arms. She sat in the chair, trying to remain as still as possible. 

“Jane’s basking in Thor’s godfatherly happiness,” Darcy answered. “I already talked to her when Clint and I made the decision.”

“But-“

“No buts, Tash,” Clint interrupted. “You’re the godmother.”

“I’m not…” She trailed off before taking a deep breath. “This is a bad idea,” she said flatly.

“Why?” 

She glared at him. “Sensible people keep their children away from me.”

“Tash.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you know why we chose you?”

“No.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Because you’ll do anything to keep her safe.”

“So would everyone else.” Even as Tasha protested, her arms curved around Talia as if protecting her from even the idea of harm.

“Now you’re just being difficult,” Darcy huffed.

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Tash, we know the others will try and keep her safe. You will do anything to make it happen.”

“But-“

“You’re the godmother.” Darcy gave her a direct look. “Why do you think we named her after you?”

She stared down at her namesake for a long moment before looking back up to meet their fond gazes. “I will keep her safe,” she said quietly. 

“We know.”

She looked back down and touched one finger to Talia’s soft cheek. She made a small face in her sleep, and Tasha felt her heart being stolen even as she watched.


	2. Rain (Bourne Legacy, Aaron)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Bourne, Aaron, green, noon, rain

He leaned on the cave wall, staring out the entrance, entranced by the rain. It came down in sheets, but the thick foliage above helped cut down on the noise. He could hear Marta’s soft breathing behind him as she slept. A sense of peace washed over him. He could not remember ever feeling such a sense of rightness before.

As Kenneth Kitsom, he had always been anxious, helpless, knowing he wasn’t quite right.

As Aaron Cross, he felt torn between duty and the quiet voice inside him telling him something still wasn’t quite right.

As simply Aaron, he felt free. For the first time, despite the hiding and the running, despite always being on guard, he finally owned himself. 

Well, except for the part that belonged to Marta. He glanced back over his shoulder. A gentle smile spread over his face. Her trust, the sheer belief she had in his ability to keep her safe, astounded him whenever he had time to think about it.

From the moment she lit the match destroying the last of her old life, she had followed him, helped him, she even tried to guard him. She gave herself into his keeping without reservation or expectation. Her acceptance, her surrender, it ensnared him in the way no threat, no force ever could. 

The rain picked up, growing stronger, and he could hear thunder over the sound of the water. He shook his head, the smile growing a bit. If it got much louder, it would wake her up. For such an insanely brave woman, sometimes the strangest things would set her off.

Thunder crashed.

Marta came awake with a small shriek.

Aaron turned around, but she was already struggling out of the blankets. He watched her wrap one of the smallest around her shoulders as she walked towards him. “We can sit back there,” he offered.

She shook her head. “It’s okay,” she replied, even as she shifted at the renewed thunder. “I love the rain.” A closer rumble caused her to move closer to him. He slid an arm around her shoulders and she curled into his side. “I just don’t like the thunder.”

“I know.” He ran his hand up and down her arm a time or two. 

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Around noon, I think.”

“Funny how that still seems important,” she mused.

“What?”

“The time.” Marta wrinkled her nose. “We’re not on a clock, and I’ve got nowhere to be, but I always still check the time.” 

“Force of habit,” he answered. “People live by time, so they always check it. That’s good; it keeps things sounding normal when we’re passing through somewhere.” She pinched his side. “Ow!” He jerked away. “What was that for?”

“Spy stuff later,” she said, poking him in the chest. “Let’s just enjoy the rain for right now.”

Aaron laughed. “What’s your favorite part of the rain?” he asked as he turned back to the show.

“The sound of the rain is soothing, calming,” she answered. “I enjoy listening when it’s pouring like this. I like watching the drops hitting pools of water when it’s just drizzling.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Most of all, I love seeing the world when it’s finished. Everything looks so clean and smells so fresh. Going to the park, or out into the woods was always best because it would be so lush and green.”

“New and renewed,” he said softly. “Fresh starts.”

She tilted her head back and met his eyes. “Just like us.”

“Still running,” he frowned.

“No.” Marta reached up and touched his lips with the tips of her fingers. “Every day’s a new start.”

Aaron took her hand in his, lacing his fingers through hers. He leaned down and caught her lips in a quick, but ardent kiss. “You’re right.”

She just smiled up at him, tightening her fingers around his. They stood together, a silent communication in their locked gazes, as they listened to the rain.


	3. Memory (Avengers, Steve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Avengers, Steve, 3 am, yellow, moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to prompt me! (Either here or on Tumblr)

Steve Rogers looked at the clock. It was three o’clock in the morning. He should be asleep. 

He couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, it would start. 

He saw Bucky falling from the train.

He heard the repressed tears in Peggy’s voice.

He felt the cold creeping through his system.

Steve threw back the covers. He walked out on his balcony and tilted his head back, eyes closed, just trying to breathe. Everyone talked about him surviving seventy years in the ice. They went on and on about how astonishing, amazing, fantastic it was. Nobody asked him about it.

He wasn’t knocked unconscious in the crash.

He felt the chill as it set into his skin, his muscles, his bones.

He remembered the feeling of disorientation, of shock, of realization.

He was going to die.

Steve opened his eyes, staring blindly at the full moon above him. The moonlight, pale and cold, brought back the first glimpse of the ice he had that day, when he knew what he had to do. He shivered. He hated the cold. He stalked back in the room.

“JARVIS?” he called out.

“I shall turn up the heat a bit, shall I, sir?”

“Thanks,” he replied gratefully.

“You are quite welcome, Captain.” JARVIS paused. “Sir? You are about to receive a visitor.”

Steve’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “At this time of night?”

“You are not the only one who is suffering a bout of insomnia this evening, Captain.” 

He frowned, snagging a t-shirt from the back of his couch and pulling it over his head as he walked towards his door. 

A knock sounded.

Steve opened the door.

A fully-dressed, if slightly rumpled Pepper Potts stood in his doorway. He frowned in confusion. “Pepper?”

“Tony’s upset about something he won’t tell me about, and he is currently on hour eighteen of a new invention. He’s not sleeping, so I can’t, and JARVIS informed me you were still awake. I wondered if I might be able to talk you into coming to the media room and watching a movie with me?” 

He blinked. “Sure, I can do that.” He paused. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” she smiled gamely. “JARVIS is going to have a power surge in a couple of hours, and that’ll stop Tony long enough to get him to go to sleep. It’s a matter of timing, and I can’t miss it.”

“Then let’s watch a movie,” he smiled.

“I thought John Wayne?” she asked as they walked towards the media room.

Steve nodded. “I remember seeing him in ‘Stagecoach’. It was…” He trailed off, but took a deep breath. “It was one of the last movies Bucky and I went to see before the war started.”

“How about ‘She Wore a Yellow Ribbon’?” Pepper asked. “It’s another Western.”

“Sounds good.”

Steve let himself get lulled into the movie, just like he remembered doing with Bucky as a kid. Getting pulled away from his troubles and his difficulties and just letting himself go. If it worked then, it could work now. He glanced at Pepper, thought about Tony working in his lab, and the rest of the team and their friends scattered throughout the mansion.

He might still have problems with the memories.

Remembering what he lost and left behind might make life difficult from time to time.

Steve just needed to remember – the new couldn’t replace the old, but it sure could help stave off the cold.


	4. A Mother's Touch (Leverage, Eliot/Parker)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Leverage, Eliot/Parker, bruises, with bonus points for Maggie's point of view

Maggie Collins sighed as she leaned her forehead on the door to her apartment. She hated those overnight flights. She never could sleep on them. There were always too many people moving, breathing, making noise. Even her earplugs could not block everything. After fumbling with the keys for a few seconds, she finally got the door opened. 

She stepped inside…and froze as she spotted the shadowy figure sitting in her oversized chair.

She retreated.

“Maggie, its Eliot.” 

The familiar low voice relaxed her immediately. “Eliot?” she asked softly, moving back inside and quietly closing the door. 

“Hey.”

She walked towards him, her eyes growing accustomed to the dim light. Eliot sat in her chair, head back but eyes focused on her. Something was wrong with his face, but she could not quite make it out. Even worse, though, Parker curled up in his lap, asleep. “What happened? What’s wrong?” One side of his mouth started to curl up. She pointed at him. “And don’t lie to me.”

He huffed out a small breath, but repressed it when Parker shifted. “Job went south,” he answered quietly. “Everyone needed to scatter, buy some space, some time. Parker wanted to come here.”

“Hmm.” She hummed for a moment before moving to turn on the kitchen light. It gave her a better light to see by, but did not disturb their shadows too badly. “And the other three?” she asked as she moved back around.

“Hardison went to get lost at some convention or another,” he replied, his eyes falling closed as she came back into his line of sight. “Nate and Sophie went somewhere out west.”

“Somewhere?” she asked archly. “Oh,” Maggie winced as she got a good look at his face this time. “Look what they did to you.” He stiffened, eyes opening to meet hers, half-wild, half-needy. Her gentle fingers brushed over the bruises on his cheek and over his eye. His gaze lost some of its intensity, confusion breaking through. She pursed her lips. “Did you take anything? Let me get some ice.”

“Maggie,” he said uncomfortably as she pulled away. “I’m okay.”

“Yes,” she agreed distractedly. She reached for a clean dish towel and opened the freezer. “I’m sure you are. It won’t hurt to get some ice on those bruises though.” She put some ice in the towel and walked back to him. 

“But-“

“But nothing,” she insisted, holding the ice to his eye. “Now, what’s wrong with Parker?”

“Bruised ribs, a sprained ankle, and no sleep for seventy two hours.”

Maggie sighed. “Well, at least that explains why she’s slept through all of this.”

“It’s nothing too bad,” Eliot reassured her.

“I knew that,” she replied. Her look combined a patient exasperation with a gentle fondness. “You wouldn’t have been so calm.” He shifted and she moved the ice to his cheek. “What I don’t understand is why you didn’t put both of yourselves in the second bedroom.”

He frowned. “It was bad enough we crashed without permission. We weren’t going to mess up your space.” When her brows went up in question, he huffed. “You’re family, Maggie.”

“All the more reason for you two to be in bed,” she pointed out.

“Doesn’t work that way,” he said, shaking his head. “Family is-“

“Family is being there for each other,” she interrupted. “Can you move Parker without waking her up?”

He looked at her for a long moment before nodding. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Alright then,” she nodded. “Get the two of you into bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Maggie,” Eliot started.

“In the morning,” she said more forcefully. “And don’t you dare think about disappearing on me. I’ll call out the hounds if you try.” He gave her a questioning look and she smiled. “Do you think Nate, Sophie, and Hardison wouldn’t come running at one call?”

He pulled himself to his feet, shifting Parker until he cradled her in his arms. “You fight dirty.”

“And I win,” she replied. She put a hand on his arm. “Get some rest, Eliot. You’re safe here.”

“We know,” he said before walking towards the bedroom. He glanced back. “Maggie…”

“Bed,” she said firmly. He just gave a grin and disappeared into the other room. 

Maggie walked into the kitchen, dumping the ice and hanging the dish towel over the sink’s edge. She considered the pair for a long moment before sighing and heading towards her own room.

“Guess Sophie will have to share the ‘mom’ duties.”


	5. Qualified (Avengers, Clint/Darcy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Clint/Darcy - Minions may not be authorized to carry weapons but they can bury you in paperwork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I got from the prompt to this, but I like the way it turned out.

“She’s not an agent. She looks like the office eye candy.”

“Wonder if we could make her cry?”

Clint Barton stopped moving, caught by the conversation happening in the hall beneath him. He spared a thought, just one, for whether people would be amused or mortified if they knew just how much he found out by listening to their conversations when he was wandering the building via vents and crawl spaces. People never had as much privacy as they thought they did. He focused back on the conversation.

“I don’t get it,” a squeaky sort of female voice was saying. Barton mentally tagged her Minnie after the mouse.

“He’s a man,” replied a huskier voice with a city accent. He marked her as Linda for that Mike Myers character.

“True,” Minnie replied, “but you wouldn’t think someone like that would throw him off.”

“All men have their weaknesses.” Linda huffed out an aggravated breath. “Who knew his was a nice rack? I still think we could make her cry.”

“Well, I know she’s a new hire. I talked to Angie down in HR, and they just brought her in.” He heard someone tap long fingernails against a cup. “They did something to retro her in though. They’ve got her listed as picked up during the first New Mexico deal.”

“That’s the thing that brought in the big metallic mess, right?” Linda asked.

“Yeah,” Minnie agreed. “Apparently the boss man met her there and noted her for ‘potential’.” Clint could hear the air quotes as the sarcasm deepened on the last word. “She doesn’t even have her degree yet. Angie says it’s marked as ‘pending’.”

“Potential for what?” Linda asked snidely. “She’s a kid, so she can’t have any real experience. With no degree, how does she rate skipping to the head of the class?”

“No idea,” Minnie scoffed. “She shouldn’t be here. A bunch of us have been working here for years – do you see us getting that kind of place?”

“And she only works part time,” Linda pointed out. “She doesn’t come in until after lunch.”

“Maybe she’s getting her degree in morning classes,” Minnie offered.

“Oh, I’ll bet she’s getting a degree in something,” Linda agreed. “The way Coulson treats her? I can only just imagine.”

Clint went cold as he realized who they were discussing. 

Darcy – it had to be. New hire, New Mexico, working with Coulson? It could only be Darcy.

He started to shift, planning to drop down and give them hell, but something stopped him. As good as it might feel all it would do would be to reinforce their issues. It would just give them more to snipe about.

He heard Minnie and Linda move off. He would wait for a few minutes to let them move away and take the time to make a call.

Ten minutes later, Clint strolled into the large room outside of Phil’s office. His eyes swept the place, noting the people genuinely working as well as the less productive employees. Two of them in particular caught his attention because they were gossiping and casting hateful glances towards Coulson’s office as they worked. The short blonde laughed, and he realized it was Linda. That meant the black-haired woman was Minnie.

The door to Coulson’s office opened. Darcy stepped out. She spotted him as she pulled the door closed. He smirked at her and sauntered over to perch on the corner of her desk. “Hey, Darce.”

“Don’t you, ‘hey’ me, Hotshot,” she fumed. “What did you tell Coulson to get him up in arms?”

“Whoa,” he said, pulling back with his hands going up in surrender. “What?”

“I just got the third degree about whether there had been any hazing, teasing, pestering, annoying, bothering, and about fifty other synonyms for it.” She huffed. “He said you’d overhead something that sounded wrong. Want to tell me about it now?”

“Just heard a couple of folks from here being less than nice,” he answered. “Thought Phil should know.”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” She rolled her eyes. “Are you talking about the Chattaway sisters over there?” She tilted her head to the other side of the office. He nodded. She sat back. “I’ve been dealing with that kind of junk since junior high.”

“What?” he frowned. He had expected her to be more upset.

“Sure,” she shrugged. “You could be the modern day Einstein, or have more skills than Jason Bourne, but as soon as people find out you’re a girl with a shape like mine, they start subtracting IQ points.” She sighed. “Men aren’t even the worst about it. I get more shit from other women than I ever get from the guys. At least with the guys I just have to remind them where my face is.”

He tilted his head, examining her. “I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry for telling him,” he remarked quietly.

“I know.” She folded her arms in front of her. “I’m not blind or stupid.” She held up a hand when he went to interrupt. “You’re not calling me that, I get it. Still, I know how things work. I’m the new kid on the block, and not only do I start working immediately for the legend that is Phil Coulson, but I get to hobnob with you guys too.” She flicked a glance at the other women. “They don’t know about Thor and New Mexico. They have no clue who Jane is or that I’m a glorified babysitter for brilliant scientists who lack common sense.” Now she focused on him. “They see heroes, weapons, assets to put into the fight – I see people, heroic people sometimes, but people. They see the victory; I see the cost. They see infallible good guys; I see people who need someone in their corner.”

His eyes softened as he listened to her, waiting for her to finish. A wicked grin crept over his face. 

She leaned back. “Clint…” 

The grin grew slightly as he heard her draw out his name in warning. “Sorry, sweetheart, just thinking.”

“Well, whatever it is, the answer’s no.”

“Aw,” he whined, though the smile never left his face.

“No,” she replied, pointing at him. “I’m still on the clock. You can save your wicked little ideas for after work.”

“Which would be now.” Both of them looked up to find Coulson standing in his office door. “Go ahead and call it a day, Miss Lewis, and do me the favor of taking Barton off the premises with you.”

“But, boss man,” Darcy started.

“Go,” he ordered. “You need to be elsewhere while I handle this situation.”

“Coulson,” she tried again.

“It has no place in my office,” he stated implacably. “Besides, if they are clueless enough to talk with so little discretion in a hallway at headquarters, then they have no business being near any sensitive information.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Go.”

“I’m going; I’m going,” she grumbled as she turned off her computer. She stood up and snagged Clint’s arm. “Come on, Hotshot.” She shook her head as she walked to the door. “You are in big trouble.”

Clint followed her, muttering, “Suddenly I’m glad you’re not allowed a gun.”

He heard Phil muffle a snort as she sniped back at him. “Weren’t you planning on my help with all your past due mission reports?” 

Clint paled. “Hey, Darce, that’s not funny.”

“Watch your step, buddy,” she responded. “Minions may not be authorized to carry weapons, but they can bury you in paperwork.”


	6. The Waltz (Avengers, Clint/Darcy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Clint/Darcy, waltzing

The soft strains of Darcy’s favorite waltz filled the air.

“Better?” Clint asked as he slipped up beside her.

“Much,” she sighed, reaching out to hold his hand. She closed her eyes as she felt the music seeping into her, relaxing her. “This was the first song we ever waltzed to.”

“I remember,” he murmured, his lips brushing her forehead. “You looked absolutely beautiful in that green number.”

“That was a gorgeous dress. I loved that dress.” Her lips drew into a pout. “I still don’t like Johnny Storm because of that dress.” She paused. “Well, among other things.”

He gave a soft chuckle. “At the rate he manages to irritate the women in the tower, I’m amazed he can still walk.”

“Coulson made us promise to play nice,” she explained. “Something about inter-team relations or what-not.”

“That would explain it,” he agreed. “I don’t think Fury could even order Tash to play nice. But Coulson…”

“It’s a daddy thing,” she noted, eyes still closed. “I think Pepper’s the only one who had anything like a decent dad. Jane got Erik for a father-figure, but the rest of us girls got shafted.”

“And Coulson fills the void,” he acknowledged. 

“Yeah.”

“I can see that,” he admitted. “Most of the guys are in the same boat.”

“Kind of makes you think, doesn’t it?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Most normal kids who want to be heroes become something normal, like a firefighter, a soldier, a doctor, something like that.” He traced abstract patterns on her hand. “Normal kids don’t go into this type of business.”

“Guess not,” she granted. 

They fell silent as the music soared to a crescendo before dropping back down. “We also danced my favorite waltz to this one as well,” he stated. “All that white lace, candlelight, and the rainbow of ribbons in your hair.”

Her lips curved. “You were so relieved to get to that dance.”

“Can you blame me?” He grimaced. “Just getting to that day had been nerve-wracking, let alone the ceremony itself.” He held her hand to his cheek. 

“Poor baby,” she giggled softly as she opened her eyes to look up at him, humor glinting in every facet.

He gave her a repressive stare. “It’s not funny,” he insisted, keeping his voice low. “I couldn’t decide who was more terrifying – the guys or Pepper and Jane.”

“It’s not like I didn’t get cornered,” she pointed out. “I ended up in a closed door, no surveillance meeting with Tasha, Phil, Fury, and Hill.” She blinked up at him. “At least you knew everybody liked you at that point. Hill and Fury were still coming down on the negative side while Tasha sat on the fence.”

His shoulders shook with repressed laughter. “Jane and Thor started tag-teaming me for the first three months to keep an eye on me.”

“Tasha started popping up out of nowhere at random times to see what I was up to,” she tossed back, laughter bubbling up in her throat. She pushed it back, but her eyes glittered in amusement. “Anyway, back to that waltz, you know why I picked all those ribbons.”

“One for each of the team,” he mused, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Red for Tasha, champagne for Jane, pale yellow for Pepper, and gold for Tony.”

“White for Thor, blue for Steve, green for Bruce, and purple for you” she finished. “I wanted to make sure everyone knew that I understood what I was getting into, that I knew I was taking on both Clint and Hawkeye.” She grinned. “And everything that implied.”

He leaned down and captured her mouth in a long kiss, silently renewing all of the promises he had made that day and in the days since. Her hand traced his jaw as he pulled back. He pressed a kiss to her fingertips. “So,” he asked, soft eyes focused on her, “which was your favorite waltz?”

She gave him a gentle, breathtaking smile. “I’ve loved each and every one, but my favorite? It hasn’t happened yet,” she replied. His brow creased in confusion and she nodded to the small bed next to her. “I think it will definitely be when I’m watching you teach her for the first time.”

He leaned forward so he could see his newborn daughter over the edge of the bed. A warm smile swept across his face. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It will definitely be in my top two.”


	7. At the Bar (Avengers, Clint)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Clint, hot pink, 11 pm, starlight

There is not a lot to catch Clint’s attention in this little bitty place in the back of beyond New Mexico. It’s not that he minds being in the middle of nowhere, but he’d prefer to be in the desert staring up at the stars to haunting the one bar in town. It’s just after eleven at night, and the crowd is already starting to get rowdy. There’s going to be a fight, he can already tell. Beer belly and Mullet over there are about to come to blows over the pool table while the Vixen Twins are getting fussy over a visiting cowboy. All of the noise, the colors, the smells…they were beginning to blend into one seriously boring, seriously dark canvas. 

Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement as the door opened, but he didn’t bother looking up. He’d see them in a minute anyway. 

A couple of bodies between him and the door shifted. His head started moving without any plan as the hot pink color pulled his gaze towards it like a matador’s cape attracting a bull. His eyes scanned, targeted, focused.

Whoa, stop, and back up. 

The hot pink color happened to be a shirt worn by a pretty brunette. The woman glanced around the bar with a bored expression. Clearly she’d been here too many times and didn’t expect much. Clint’s eyes did a quick, but thorough overview. She was around five-foot-five, and curvaceous. His lips curved in appreciation. She certainly didn’t fit the stupidly popular rail-thin look. He approved. Everything about her, from her hair to her lips to her figure, highlighted lush, woman, and off-limits.

Oh, yeah, he read that look.

She was here for a drink, not to be bothered, not to be propositioned. She wanted a damn drink, not a Mr. Right Now.

Well, he was okay with that. He’d stay back, but she certainly brightened up the place.

“Hey, sweet thing, come have a drink?” A guy came out of the crowd and intercepted her. He looked as though one more drink would have him comatose.

She brushed him off. “Not interested.”

“Oh, come on now,” the idiot blustered. “Don’t be that way. We can have a real good time.”

“Good to know you’re a stupid drunk,” she shot back. “I said no.”

“Hey,” he grabbed her arm. “I’m just making nice here.”

“Let go of me.”

“Or what?” The drunk grinned. 

Clint was halfway out of his seat when there was a blur of movement and the guy let out a high-pitched whine as he fell to the ground. He curled into a fetal position. His face grimaced and contorted as he looked up. “You bitch!”

The woman rolled her eyes and pushed him onto his back with one foot. “Look, jackass,” she said, planting her foot dangerously close to the place she’d just kneed. “When I say no, it doesn’t mean I’m playing games. When I say no, I mean no.” She leaned forward, putting some weight on her foot and causing the drunk’s eyes to go wide. “You come anywhere near me again, drunk or sober, and I’m going to put you face first in the dirt. Got me?”

With that, she pulled away and walked over to the bar. The drunken guy scrambled up with help from his friends who then hustled him out of the building. Clint watched as they dragged him down the street to make sure they weren’t waiting around outside. He kept a close eye on them until they were out of sight.

The sound of a bottle being placed on his table drew his attention back to the room. He found himself face to face with the woman in question. He hadn’t even heard her walking up. 

She smiled at him. “Saw you start to move a minute ago,” she said.

“Yeah, well, it looked like you handled yourself,” he shrugged.

“He was lucky I was in a good mood.”

He lifted a brow. “That was your reaction in a good mood?”

“Sure,” she responded easily. “In a bad mood I’d have used my Taser.”

A wicked grin flashed across his face. “That would have been amusing.”

“You have to be careful though,” she reflected. He tilted his head and she rolled a shoulder. “If you overuse it, people start to expect it, and it loses its shock value.”

He started chuckling. “I like you.” He held out a hand. “Clint Barton.”

A brilliant smile lit up her face. “Darcy Lewis.”


	8. Bonding (Iron Man, Tony/Pepper)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Tony/Pepper, simple, touch, family

Tony is fire, volatile, dramatic, ever-changing; he draws the unwary forcing them to adapt or fade. His passions burn quick and bright, flaring without thought.

If he is fire, then Pepper is water, cool, soothing, deep; her passions are hidden deep within, secrets shared by only a few. She misleads even the wariest of contenders and they never see the danger stirring underneath.

Pepper is earth, solid, dependable, carefully calculating; she gives him a foundation of trust and loyalty that never wavers. Here alone does he find rest.

If she is earth, then Tony is air, adaptable, vital, always present; he gives her the motivation to be better, to be more, to see how high she can reach. Here alone does she find life.

The brilliant bad boy…the grounded good girl…according to the world around them, they would never work, could never work. He would hurt her, leave her, ignore her. She would grow tired of being last, never first, tired of his brilliance, tired of his troublemaking.

Opposites…extremes…contraries – they should never have formed a bond.

The world could not understand the simplicity of their relationship. They could not see how much a simple touch meant when shared between the two of them.

How his eyes sought hers first when he entered the room, regardless of who else might be present.

How her hand rested on his arm without grasping or demanding, simply being.

People in his world were phantoms, mist, unreal beings he ignored as he pursued the starbursts of ideas burning in his mind. She alone became real to him, and through her reality, brought the others into his world.

People in her world were colorless; she dealt with them day in, day out without them impacting on her life. He alone brought color into her world, shattering the safe, but constricting bubble around her and pulling her into a whole new reality.

She opened the window that let him feel. 

He opened the door that let her live.

His hand on the small of her back…her eyes across a crowded room…they grounded themselves in one another. Her voice in his ears…his scent surrounding her…they taught each other how to fly.

People did not understand. They could not see beyond the surface. They did not see the passion expressed by a simple brush of a hand. They could not see the shared conversation in a simple look. People expected, in some ways wanted, a bold, passionate embrace; they wanted to see a romance shouted from the rooftops and splashed across the media.

Tony might live his life that way; Pepper might deal with Stark Industries that way. Tony and Pepper, though, they went beyond that, above that. They did not need it. Balancing each other, circling each other, they found happiness in the simple bond uniting them. The outside world was unnecessary.

And if they found teammates who understood? Friends who quietly basked in their joy?

Well, that was alright. Love was better when shared with a family.


	9. To Draw (Avengers, Steve/Darcy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy is being drawn by Steve - in more than one way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Merideath - her prompt was "Steve/Darcy 'flirting in a sassy/snarky way'. I want Steve giving as good as he gets from Darcy. Make of that what you will. " - I'm not sure this is what she had in mind, but I hope she enjoys!

Darcy looked up from her book and caught Steve staring at her from across the pool. She lifted an eyebrow, but he just gave her a wave and turned back to his sketchbook. Her eyes narrowed. She began to shift, planning to go over and see what he was up to, but his eyes suddenly pinned her in place.

“Don’t move!” She blinked at his vehemence and he gestured with his pencil. “The light’s perfect.”

She stared at her book. He was drawing her? Her eyes rested sightlessly on the words, the letters and lines blurring until they were no more than black streaks across her vision, as she considered it. How long had he been watching, staring without her realizing it? And, yes, okay, it was Steve, aka Cap, so she wasn’t really freaked out about it, but still…was it just today? Had he been here any other day this week?

Spring had finally graced the city with its presence, and temperatures began to climb. Darcy decided to start taking advantage of Tony’s private pool. Not so much for a chance to swim as the water was still a little too cold, but because she finally had a place she could lay out without having to worry about her stuff being stolen or every creep, freak, and jerk in the area being riveted to her chest. Tony would leer, but it was mostly for show, and the others were at least circumspect about it. She never really minded the looks, but there was ‘looking’ and there was ‘creeping’. She could do without the latter, thank you.

Now though, she had to wonder, how long had Steve been looking?

The sketching part didn’t surprise her. Captain America might never go anywhere without his trusty shield, but Steve always had pencil and paper stashed somewhere. He usually sketched from memory, people, places, and things from his past. Newer faces started showing up in his most recent sketchbooks, and everyone had been quietly thrilled. Too much focus on the past worried them; he needed anchors here and now. Sometimes that phenomenal memory had to be a curse.

And that was the part she was stuck on.

Steve could draw fantastically detailed scenes from memory. The tiniest expressions and patterns showed up in his sketches, and they’d actually proven to be accurate when compared to pictures taken by Tony. He didn’t need to stare, to watch, to focus so sharply.

Why was he watching?

“Darcy?” Steve’s voice broke her reverie and her eyes flew to meet his as he knelt beside her. He smiled. “Hey, you okay?”

“Ah, yeah,” she managed before having to clear her throat. She shook her head. “Sorry, I got caught up there.” She flashed him a brilliant smile, trying to push him a bit off guard. “Something just got terribly fascinating all of the sudden.” She lifted her book a bit to draw his attention to it. His eyes never wavered from hers.

“Really?” he asked, a wicked little grin settling on his lips. Her eyes narrowed, but she stayed silent. Something flickered in his gaze, some blend of humor, triumph, and enticement. “’Cause you know, you’ve been staring at the same page for ten minutes now.”

She glanced down at the book and back up at him, caught. The humor faded slightly as the enticement grew. He leaned forward and her breath caught. A husky chuckle sounded in her ears as he brushed his lips across her cheek. “You make a swell model.”

Then he was up and striding back around the pool, leaving her speechless in his wake.


	10. Silence Speaks Volumes (Avengers, Clint/Darcy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy earns her place without ever speaking a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For indynerdgirl who asked for Clint/Darcy, smile, forever. ALSO - this went WAY off of where I thought it was going to go. In no way did I expect it to turn into this. Despite being a complete surprise, I kind of like the way it turned out. I hope you enjoy.

Clint could watch her for hours without noticing the time slip away. It hadn’t always been that way. He’d seen her in New Mexico, dancing in the lab, completely ignoring the people walking past on the street. She could usually be found chasing after Dr. Foster trying to force food, sleep, sometimes clothing on the absent-minded scientist. At the time, she’d been no more than Dr. Foster’s intern. She wore bulky sweaters, strange hats, and either ignored or glared at every SHIELD agent who crossed her path. She just didn’t hold his attention.

Then came Loki.

Clint, never loud to begin with, fell almost silent after the whole thing. He ghosted through the Tower, staying, but not really living. He avoided the helicarrier like the plague unless directly ordered to show his face. He withdrew into a shell, trying to face the guilt burrowing in his gut. Even Tasha, who understood better than anybody, couldn’t reach him. The team tried talking; they tried fighting; hell, Fury had even tried lecturing – it didn’t seep through the barrier he’d put up.

He didn’t want it to touch him.

Clint observed as Dr. Foster blew back in from Tromso, irritation and annoyance trailing in her wake. Darcy tripped along behind her – the one-time intern, now permanent assistant rolled her eyes at the scientist’s dramatics and stared around at the Tower and the team in fascination. He watched her out of boredom initially. She didn’t have the same aura of destiny or shadow of blood the rest of them did. She was…normal. She didn’t belong in their world – not with her wide innocent eyes, her kittenish curiosity, or her open optimism. 

The rest of the team seemed to agree.

Clint stayed in the vents or rooftop perches and watched the team close her out despite her best efforts to be friendly. Bruce tried to avoid her when he could and ignore her when he couldn’t. Tony tried to run her off with insults and salacious commentary. Natasha usually ignored her, or tried to scare her if that didn’t work. Steve was polite, but distant. Pepper was too busy to call them on their behavior. Doc Foster watched everything through narrowed eyes, and finally pulled Darcy into a big, if private discussion. Later he found out that she had asked Darcy if they should just leave, no matter what SHIELD was offering for them to stay.

Darcy put her foot down and dug in her heels.

Clint watched as Doc Foster left the meeting to go back to the labs. Darcy came out of the room with her chin high and shoulders back, but her eyes held a complicated mix of anger, fear, pain, and shame. He felt the blow of that gaze even though she couldn’t see him. His fists clenched involuntarily. They had done this to her…deliberately. They had chosen to make her uncomfortable, trying to drive her out through fear instead of understanding.

She knew they didn’t want her, but she didn’t know why.

Clint kept an eye on her over the next few days. He watched as she ignored them, one and all. No matter how rude, scary, crude, or polite, she never responded at all. It was as if they didn’t exist. He could see their actions and words stutter as they were met with a blank wall. Now he followed her, intrigued, as the others stopped needling her and started watching. They understood fear, anger, disgust, but this complete indifference bewildered them. His own intrigue grew, turning slowly into admiration and then interest. One night he showed up in the kitchen as she made her nightly cup of hot chocolate.

She stared at him for a long moment; he stared back.

Clint sat on the countertop as she made a double portion of chocolate. Darcy gave a small smile as she handed him a mug on her way out of the room. He sipped the hot liquid as he watched her walk down the hallway. The kitten seemed to be playing a deep psychological game. He wasn’t sure what she had been looking for, but he must have passed some kind of test.

She started making an extra cup every night.

Clint made sure to show up every night for his cup. She never said a word, never did more than smile, but she always had a cup just for him. Two weeks passed without her paying attention to anyone other than Doc Foster and himself. The rest of the team grew twitchy. Nobody ignored them – loved them, hated them, feted them, insulted them, but never ignored them. Darcy just let them stew. 

Oddly enough, Tasha was the first to break.

Clint might have expected it actually if he stopped to think. People never ignored Widow. They didn’t go out of their way to make friends, preferring to give her a wide berth, but they never ignored her. Anytime she entered a room people’s eyes would be drawn to her. The foolish ones stared; the smart ones kept an eye on her while going about their own business. She’d never had someone who breezed past her like she didn’t exist.

It hit her hard.

Clint slid between the two women as Tasha strode forward, eyes steely and cold. He planted himself firmly in her way and she bared her teeth. Darcy continued working at the stove as the partners stared at one another. A nearly inaudible growl rumbled between Tasha’s gritted teeth. He grew still, prepared for her to move. The tension drew taut, razor-fine.

Darcy cleared her throat.

Clint blinked. So did Tasha. He looked over his shoulder incredulously to meet Darcy’s bright green eyes. She smiled at him, handing him his usual cup of cocoa. Her eyes traveled to meet Tasha’s for the first time in weeks. For just a brief moment, she let the mask drop and the true depth of her pain shone out. Then she brought the mask back up and smiled.

She handed Tasha a cup of her own before sailing out of the room.

Clint stared after her and then met Tasha’s eyes. Silver tears coated the usually flinty gaze. Darcy had managed to do in one look what no torturer, no seducer, no psychologist could do in a year – she broke through the Widow’s defenses. A new look flooded Tasha’s face, a look previously held only for him and for Coulson. Darcy was hers; she was Darcy’s.

Game, set , and match to the assistant.

Clint watched as the others fell, one by one, like a line of dominos. Tony, who he honestly had expected to break first, fell the very next morning. He finally complained to JARVIS, and found out the AI had an unexpected soft spot for Darcy. JARVIS proceeded to replay every comment or insult Tony had tossed at her without thinking. Tony showed up that night, a flowery, if scrambled apology starting to pour out, but one look at those wounded green eyes and he stuttered to a stop. He stood there, opening and closing his mouth helplessly for a moment before she smiled and handed him a cup of chocolate. Pepper followed within minutes, obviously confused by the silent kitchen.

She won yet again without saying a word.

Clint leaned against the kitchen cabinet as he saw Steve accept a cup the following evening after the man had been unable to resist drawing her. The good Captain stared at his drawing for a long, long while that afternoon. Something flickered in his eyes and he walked out of the Tower with a troubled look on his face. Darcy walked over to the abandoned sketch, her fingers brushing lightly over it before she met Clint’s gaze. He walked over to see.

Darcy’s injured eyes stare back at him.

Clint knew Bruce would be the hardest of them all. He was not only used to being alone; he preferred it. He would be the toughest nut for her to crack simply because the man could vanish almost as well as either assassin, and nobody pushed him too far because of the potential for Hulk to make an impromptu appearance. After conquering the whole of the Tower within a few days of each other, it looked like Darcy might be stuck. 

And she still wasn’t talking to anyone but Doc Foster.

Clint fidgeted as he watched over her. Days went by and then a week. Her shoulders began to drop slightly. The time was wearing on her. This silent ghost of a person wasn’t her. She was meant to be lively and laughing, not drifting in and out. The kitten needed to stop hunting and start playing. His hands tightened on the perch; he wanted to reach out, to comfort her. He hadn’t realized how deeply she had burrowed into his skin. She had been an innocent outsider, someone who didn’t belong in their world. Now she was the hint of magnolia persevering through difficulties, the warmth curling around his heart and driving out the chill of memory, the spark that startled him night after night as her fingers brushed his so briefly as she handed him a cup, the rich flavor of chocolate blending with a sharp trace of mint, and the smile causing his breath to catch at its simple beauty. She invaded all but one of his senses.

He grew desperate to hear her voice.

Clint stared as Darcy stood, shaking, but erect, in front of Hulk. The other Avengers vibrated with the need to pull her to safety, but feared setting Hulk off if they tried. The green behemoth stared at her, tilting his head in confusion. She stared back. The entire tableau froze as he reached out and touched her hair. Her hand moved until she could touch his arm. She patted it, giving him a gentle smile even as a shiver ran down her back. Hulk gave a deep sigh, the air of it stirring her hair. He sat down and seemed to slowly collapse in on himself until Bruce lay there, shaking and disoriented. She took the blanket Tony offered and covered Bruce’s trembling figure. He met her eyes and a shared look of sorrow sealed it.

Bruce showed up that night for cocoa.

Clint listened as Darcy danced around the media room, teasing Tony and trying to get Bruce to eat his sandwich. She stopped to comment on Jane and Steve’s chess game before hugging the newly returned Thor and stealing the watching Pepper’s heels to try them on. She shared a brownie with Tasha before finally hoisting herself up onto perch next to him. He curled his arm around her and she leaned up to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth before resting her head on his shoulder.

“I love family night,” she whispered to him.

Yes, he could watch her for hours without noticing the time slip away, but listening to her voice might be his favorite hobby of all.


	11. Dancing (Bourne Legacy, Aaron/Marta)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They never taught him how to dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For indynerdgirl - she prompted me with "Bourne Legacy: Aaron Cross/Marta Shearing - music, laughter, yellow (can be used all together or separately)" - I hope she likes!

Aaron Cross reflected on everything he had ever been taught by Outcome. They taught him how to lie, how to kill, and how to survive. He learned to have sex, to take a life bare-handed, to speak passably in several different languages. They taught him how to blend in, how to hotwire any vehicle, and how to seduce with words or smiles. He learned to hide his emotions, to wear a mask over his disapproval, to distrust people’s words. 

They never taught him how to dance. 

And right now, as he stood beside _her_ and listened to her humming to the music, he lamented the oversight.

He and Marta arrived at this remote village three days ago. The villagers welcomed them as travelers, questers of some sort if he caught the dialect right. That is how they translated their ‘journey of discovery’ as he had told them. When they discovered Marta knew some medicine, healing in their viewpoint, the welcome became almost familial in its offering. Aaron pitched in to help make repairs. Many of the buildings had been damaged in a previous storm, and any assistance at all was gratefully received. 

All of that brought them to this moment, watching the people joyously dancing. A young couple in the village was getting married. The entire day passed in a blur of festivity and celebration as per local custom. Aaron and Marta had been separated for most of the day as the men and women each had their own rites to fulfill. He did not like that part; it made him nervous when he could not get to her if something went wrong. 

“Aaron?”

Marta’s voice brought his attention down to her. Her face tilted up to him, a bright delight sparkling in her eyes even as a tiny frown of concern knotted her brow. He tightened his arm around her shoulders and leaned down to press a quick, but fervent kiss to her lips. “Nothing’s wrong,” he reassured her. “Just thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” she joked, poking him in the ribs.

He chuckled. “Funny girl.”

She smiled before turning to watch the dancers. He kept his gaze on her. Several women in the village had pooled their talents to get Marta dressed up for the celebration. In addition to her borrowed clothing, they braided bright yellow flowers into her hair. The contrast between the sunny color and her dark tresses teased his vision while the spicy floral scent created its own seduction. He reluctantly turned to watch the ongoing merriment.

The actual wedding consisted of a meal shared between the families and a symbolic sacrifice by both the bride and the groom. Now the newlyweds sat in the high seat of honor, usually reserved for the village headman, watching their neighbors dance. This part of the celebration could go late into the night according to everything Aaron picked up during the day. Marta swayed in time to the music, her hair brushing across his arm as her body moved close and then shifted back. Aaron drew in a breath. 

Movement caught his eye. He glanced across the clearing and watched as some of the married couples began slipping away. They left subtly, but without guilt, so obviously people were not expected to stay for the entire party. 

Aaron smiled. He pulled Marta close and leaned down to brush his lips over her ear. “Ready to go?”

She gave a small shiver, but looked around. “Can we do that?” she asked, biting her lip.

“Come on,” he chuckled, keeping his voice low. He pulled her slowly back into the shadows of the nearby trees.

“Aaron,” she whispered, “I don’t want to be rude.”

He shook his head slightly and stopped in the shadows where they could observe the party, but no one could see them. Maneuvering her in front of him, he drew her closer until she leaned back against him. “Watch,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his cheek against her hair.

The two of them stood silent witnesses to the ebb and flow of the crowd. Aaron watched the subtle and not-so-subtle movements. A young man got to close to a young woman only to be brought up short as her grandmother turned a gimlet eye on him. The woman’s parents held hands as they slipped away into the quieter parts of the village. Another young woman offered a piece of fruit to a young man who ducked his head as he accepted. His grandmother gave a nod to her grandfather; Aaron would wager on another match coming there.

Marta tilted her head back and slightly to the side to look at him. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The colors and the music…all the laughter.” She sighed. “And I would never have gotten to see it, to be a part of it without you.”

His arms tightened and his throat felt like it tried to close up. Every so often she would say something like that, something that made this life on the run sound like a gift, a precious treasure, and it knocked his breath out every single time. 

“Marta.”

Her name fell from his lips, a pleading, a blessing, as his eyes slipped closed and his head bowed. He leaned his head on her shoulder. She rubbed her cheek along the side of his as her hands tightened over his. Neither of them spoke or moved for several long moments. They simply basked in each other’s presence, in the knowledge that all they could need was right here in this breath of time.

A burst of laughter from the party broke the spell.

Marta turned in his arms and ran her hands up over his shoulders to link behind his neck. He smiled down at her, leaning down, but stopped a few inches from her lips. With a small giggle in return, she lifted up and closed the distance. As the kiss deepened and he felt her melting into the moment, Aaron knew he had learned the most important lesson of all, a lesson that left dancing in the dust. He learned how to love – and it had been his pretty, shy doctor who taught it to him.


	12. Speaking Russian (MCU: Bucky/Darcy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Because Darcy is awesome, she knows how to speak Russian, but does not reveal this until a few months into a relationship with Bucky. He is impressed. Go forth, interpret how you will.
> 
> Warning! There is some cursing going on...and nope - I'm not translating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if this is anywhere near what was being thought of, but here's where I went. Also - the internet is my translator, so I've got no idea how right or wrong I am.
> 
> Feel free to prompt me at my tumblr - serenityscribbles.tumblr.com

“Damn it!” 

Darcy’s voice echoed down the hallway and Bucky shook his head. “Now what?” he muttered. Steve smothered a laugh and Bucky gave him a dark look. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he told his friend. “You’re not the one who’s got to try and sweet talk her into-“

A shattering glass interrupted him and they exchanged worried looks. Darcy’s voice started ringing out once more before even their enhanced reflexes could kick in.

“C’est des conneries!”

“She’s definitely not happy,” Steve noted, lips twitching in amusement.

“Porca vacca!”

“Italian?” One of Bucky’s eyebrows went up. “I knew she spoke Farsi, and Jane speaks French, so I get that one, but-“

“Glupia dupa!”

“Isn’t that Polish?” Steve shook his head, apparently both impressed and amused. “Your girl sounds ready to blow a fuse at someone.”

“Проклятие! Мне это не нравится. не гони!”

Bucky’s head came up sharply, but he said nothing. Instead he held up a hand to keep Steve quiet as well. The two of them stood there listening as Darcy seemed to settle into a long rant on the state of the new machines and whether or not the techs in SHIELD ever bothered to read the specs.

And she did it all in Russian.

“Son of a bitch,” Bucky breathed out, but it held a note of awe.

Steve’s shoulders shook for a moment before he turned back towards the elevator, whistling lightly under his breath. Bucky scowled at his retreating back before turning towards the open lab door as Darcy wound down her rant and silence took over. He took a deep breath and stepped into the doorway.

“So,” Bucky drew the word out slowly. Darcy started in surprise, her head coming around sharply. She blinked at him in confusion and one corner of his mouth curved up. “Russian?” he queried curiously.

“Uh…you heard that?” Darcy winced as he nodded. “Yeah, okay, I know some Russian…but it only comes out when I’m beyond pissed.” Then she shrugged. “Actually, most of the foreign stuff I know is only to be used in extreme circumstances.”

“Going to agree with you on most of the words you were spitting out,” he smirked before growing more serious, “but your Russian was almost native.”

She sighed and rubbed one hand over her face. “Polish great-grandparents on my mother’s side who thought everyone in the family should speak four languages in addition to English.”

“So you picked Russian?”

“No,” she disagreed. “Let me be more specific. They thought everyone in the family should speak English AND Polish, Yiddish, German, and Russian.” Her hands rose in an exasperated shrug. “Guilt trip from hell if you couldn’t manage basic conversations in all four. Most of us learned in self-defense.”

“But your Russian is so good because?” His eyes narrowed on her.

“Hey, you should hear my Yiddish,” she pointed out. The unimpressed look he shot her drew a deep sigh from her. “My dad’s grandfather was Russian…he came to America at the end of World War II.”

He nodded. “And he taught you Russian.” 

“Yeah, well, Russian remained his best language, and if you wanted to get the full scope of his stories, it was easier for him to tell them in Russian,” she replied. “He could speak English, but sometimes translating slowed him down too much and he wouldn’t finish.”

“Let’s go get dinner, and you can tell me about him.” Bucky smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her out of the lab. “What was your favorite story?”

“He had a couple of really good ones about these Americans he knew during the war,” Darcy told him as a wicked grin crossed her lips. “Maybe you heard of the group? They were called the Howling Commandos.”


	13. Recognizing the Truth (MCU - Bucky/Darcy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky comes to a sudden realization about Darcy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got away from me for a bit, but Bucky had to work through it in his mind. It's possible Darcy comes off a little too "perfect" in this one, but I'm trying to see her through Bucky, not objectively. 
> 
> Prompt will be in the end notes - hopefully the prompter enjoys!

Bucky stood in the gym, fists pounding an even rhythm into the punching bag. He carefully monitored his strength. This wasn’t a time for destruction – he was trying to prove to himself that he could contain the killer – the monster – within. It was almost meditative; the steady beat of the exercise. His body relaxed into the motion.

Unfortunately that left his mind free to wander where it would. And wander it did – straight to the dame who’d been haunting him for weeks now. 

He didn’t know Steve’s opinions, but the current fashion of rail thin or athletically lean women simply didn’t make the cut for him. Sure, he’d looked, even glanced twice, but none of them drew his attention for long. His brain and libido were still very much back in the old days when women had curves and were proud of them. A man could get lost in exploring those curves…and he had once upon a time ago. Never did meet the girl – the one he’d give up a bachelor’s life for – but it didn’t stop him from enjoying the scenery. Now the scene came in sharp edges…curves were out. He could only shake his head at the “modern” man. Who the hell wanted an angle when a curve could be had? If those curves happened to package a good intelligence, a loyal heart, and a shy smile? So much the better. 

Trust him to meet the one girl in New York who could hit every button – curves, brains, heart, and smile.

Sometimes he hated his life.

Darcy Lewis could make a pin-up girl green with envy. He was man enough to admit her curves were the first thing to catch his eye. Be a damned shame if a figure like that couldn’t be acknowledged and admired. He might have even considered making a play – if she didn’t come with a six-foot-three, two hundred plus pound adopted big brother putting out warning glares in all directions. 

Seriously – until he finally met the elusive and lab-bound Doc Jane, he wondered if Thor and Darcy were an item.

With the ‘hands off’ ringing loud and clear, he kept his greeting at a friendly level and that gave him time to see the shy, nervous smile. Darcy didn’t talk much during her first few weeks at the Tower. It took him a bit, but he finally realized she felt completely out of her depth amongst the agents, heroes, spies, and geniuses littering every corner of the place. Being stuck at the Tower until everyone felt comfortable with his ‘rehabilitation’ gave him a unique opportunity to befriend the young woman and she finally admitted her concerns.

_A few weeks ago…_

“It’s just…well, in New Mexico and even in London, it was Jane and Erik and Thor,” she told him as they shared a plate full of nachos. “Two geniuses and one Thor…I could handle it – especially since by the time we were all in one place, Jane was like a sister and Erik kind of took the father-figure place.”

“And Thor?” he asked curiously.

Darcy chuckled. “Thor’s Thor,” she told him with a slightly deeper smile. “He’s this…golden retriever puppy of a guy when he’s in a good mood. All he wants is to have the people around him happy and healthy.” She shook her head. “It’s hard not to like Thor…and once he adopts you? You’re family. End of story.”

“It became a family thing?” he pushed a little, wanting to make sure he understood.

“Yeah, exactly,” she agreed immediately. “So, you know, it wasn’t that bad. Jane and Erik might be geniuses, and Thor’s both brainy and brawny, but none of them do the real world well. Thor’s too new to it and the other two are too science-y, lost in their own thoughts somewhere two miles above everyone else. I fit, you know?” She blinked her big green eyes at him and he nodded without speaking. “I could handle the mundane, common sense stuff, and if it was a little bigger than me, well – Thor’s good at taking directions and likes to help out.” She sighed. “It’s different here.”

“How so?”

“I just…I don’t know where I fit. JARVIS handles half the stuff I used to, and now we’ve got these extra hands suddenly at our disposal, so I end up not having much to do most of the time. The others fit, sure – Erik is a genius, Jane is a super genius, and Thor is an Avenger. Me? I mean – what do super heroes and super spies need with a poli-sci grad?” Her lips twisted a bit and he repressed the desire to reach out to soothe away the distress he could see there. She lifted one shoulder. “I thought about trying to go back to school, but when I toured one of the campuses, I realized I didn’t fit in there either. All these people were running around with their worst concerns being a grade or the rent money or their next project. What am I worried about? Aliens, mad scientists, and super villains – all of the people, organizations, and things trying to take over the world - that's what I'm worried about.” Anxious eyes rose to meet his dark gaze. “If I’m not needed here and I don’t fit there, where the hell am I supposed to be?”

_Back to the present…_

Something about that lost look tugged at him. He hadn’t been able to get it out of his head and he began to look her up whenever he had a free moment. She helped him catch up on history and movies – the stuff his handlers never thought their prize assassin needed. Most of the team joined them for movie nights, and something in his heart lifted with pride as Darcy included him among the very few people she drifted between. 

It lifted even more as she began to blossom and find her place inside the Tower.

Hopefully she never learned about the words he dropped in a few ears – namely Steve, Nat, and Pepper’s.

Her intelligence snared him next. She might consider herself average, but she could hold her own in debates on movies, books, and politics with anyone in the tower. Maybe she couldn’t do the complicated science and math their geniuses thrived on, but being able to keep up with a political debate between agents and spies was nothing to sneeze at. 

It was her loyalty that really sealed the deal for him. When a handful of scientists talked down to Doc Jane, Darcy drafted Barton and Stark into retaliation. She approached Nat about taking that asshole Ross down a few pegs when he tried nosing after Banner. Let some socialite start badmouthing Stark and suddenly the woman found herself persona non grata with the elite…not that he’d found out how she’d pulled that one off yet. She did her best to take care of everyone – even the newcomers like Doc Betty and himself.

It was no wonder Thor and Docs Jane and Selvig hovered over her so much.

Still, despite everything she did for all of them, he was floored when her protective instincts included him. 

A major news chain published an article about the Winter Soldier. It wasn’t a positive one. It all but called him a snake in the grass, a time bomb waiting to happen. Darcy went on a five minute rant before stopping in the middle of the media room and marching out. Twenty four hours later he discovered some backdated paperwork showing him to be an employee of Stark Enterprises and the newspaper being attacked by the full legal power of SI backed by the indomitable and somewhat frightening will of Pepper Potts.

Yeah, yeah…frightening. He was almost positive that woman could take over the world without mussing a hair. Throw in JARVIS… yeah, no. He planned to stay on the good side of **both** of them.

She’d done that – for him. He knew it had been Darcy. It had been the final straw…the last sliver of his heart stolen away by a modern day pin-up girl who had no clue of her real value.

A gentle alarm sounded. 

Bucky shook his head as he stopped pounding on the bag. He leaned his forehead against it and took in several deep breaths as his body began to cool down. Every fiber of his being told him to go after her, pursue her, but his head…

The newspaper had been partially right. There was a bomb – it was in his head. _Зимний Солдат – Zimniy Soldat – Winter Soldier_ …that part of him still existed like a shadow in his mind. It made a part of him cold, calculating. Buried deep in his mind was the knowledge that the Soldier part of him had already determined the best way to take out most of the Avengers. Banner and Thor would be problems, but they would be significantly less of a threat with their team and lovers destroyed. 

Bucky shoved himself away from the bag, a snarl rising in his throat. That right there – that very potential – that was why he couldn’t follow the directives of his heart. He couldn’t pursue Darcy. She was too important for some one night stand, but anything else…

Soldier might wake up one day and hurt her.

And that would be the final death knell of James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky stalked off to his room, rushing through a shower before heading to the communal kitchen in only a pair of sweatpants and a towel around his neck. 

“Doesn’t anybody around here wear clothes?” Tony Stark’s voice rang out as Bucky stepped through the kitchen door.

Bucky glanced over to see the inventor genius sitting at the bar with a sandwich and some indescribable pile of wires and metal. “What’s the matter, Stark? Too much competition around here these days for you?”

“Ha!” Stark scoffed. “I have a beautiful lady. I don’t need to compete.” He raised a brow. “It’s not my fault you’re either too blind to see who you’ve got or too stupid to go after her.”

Bucky’s temper fired, but as he opened his mouth to argue, a loud claxon began sounding. Professional masks slipped over the faces of both men. JARVIS’s voice rang out through all of the speakers. “Panic alarm sounded. Verifying identification…it is confirmed. Miss Lewis has activated her panic alarm and homing device.”

Ice slithered through Bucky’s veins. For a moment, briefly, he considered fighting it, but as JARVIS displayed a map on the nearby screens, he could feel the Soldier part of him identifying and weighing each of the potential routes and hidey-holes in the area. Something clicked within him and the familiar sensation struck him.

Soldier had a mission – locate and retrieve the handler.

The cords which had been tightening around Bucky’s chest suddenly loosened and he sucked in air as understanding flared in his mind. He didn’t just want to _try_ a relationship with Darcy…he loved her. He loved the muted brilliance of her mind, her instinctive drive to help people, and yes, her gorgeous face and figure. Above all else he loved the heart that poured itself out for others without expecting anything in return. 

Soldier didn’t understand love – the cold calculation required to do his job meant love was nothing more than a mere intellectual exercise – but since Soldier was a part of Bucky and Darcy was important to Bucky, he had to figure out a way to slide her into his logical, ordered world. She wasn’t one of the doctors or the scientists, and she didn’t have the power to be one of the bosses. She took care of him – found ways to make sure he had what he needed, even if it wasn’t weapons and finances. That made her his handler. This was something Soldier understood. 

The handler was his source of supplies and his main point of contact in case an evac was needed. Therefore the handler had to be protected at all costs. If that meant becoming a full ally with his previous enemies – so be it.

Darcy had become Soldier’s mission.

A feral smile slipped over Bucky’s lips as his gaze met Stark’s. Stark blinked at him and gave a slow nod. “Okay, wild man, better put something on if you’re coming with us.”

Less than ten minutes later the Avengers’ Quinjet lifted off from the roof of the Tower. Thor flew escort with Iron Man, easily surrendering his seat beside Captain America to their newest teammate.

Villains of the world beware – a Soldier is coming out to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> graffitiedtheuniverse gave me - Bucky/Darcy Bucky falling in love with Darcy but is too scared to pursue a relationship because he is afraid the part of him that is still The Winter Solider will hurt her. He has nothing to worry about however because that part of him has made it his mission to protect her at all times. Something happens to make him realize this (Darcy getting kidnapped ect.).


End file.
